


The Past and Present

by wulfeyes08



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Choking, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:55:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28372002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wulfeyes08/pseuds/wulfeyes08
Summary: “You’re okay.” He focused on Will’s voice and used it to build a wall between him and those unwanted emotions.“I know.” He made himself smile, even if it was false. It was better to wear the mask and slip behind the calm of the predator. “It looks far older than I imagined.”“You don’t have to rush, love.”
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 87





	The Past and Present

**Author's Note:**

> Back in Lithuania and at the castle. I think I made myself a little sad writing it though. Love y'all.

To see the castle again, rising before them, dark and cold, was a shock. Hannibal fought down the aversion for the place, running the halls of his mind and locking the doors against the memories that threatened to keep him frozen there. They slammed against their prison, threatening to break loose and send him spiraling. He stood there at the bottom of the steps, eyes drawn up and up and then back down again to the front door. The press of a hand to his shoulder brought him back, and he turned with the slight pressure, meeting the empathetic gaze of his disaster. He forced down the anxiety, leashing it and commanding it to stay silent.

“You’re okay.” He focused on Will’s voice and used it to build a wall between him and those unwanted emotions.

“I know.” He made himself smile, even if it was false. It was better to wear the mask and slip behind the calm of the predator. “It looks far older than I imagined.”

“You don’t have to rush, love.”

He looked back at that door, then at the overgrown, unkempt yard. It was covered in snow and ice. The sun was falling, covering the building in frosted shadows. “We should get inside before we freeze to death.”

“Hannibal.”

“Come, there’s no need to wait.” He turned away from that compassionate, understanding gaze and made himself take that first step and every step after. The door called to him, a siren song luring him in until he was standing there staring at the handle. Just like his nightmares, he was frozen for a moment as he contemplated whether or not he should do this, and found himself reaching out, fingers brushing the icy metal. He gripped the handle and turned it, wincing as he pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold.

Cold. It was cold everywhere, but there was no dust or grime, only a dim, dreary silence that seemed to swallow everything. He inhaled, catching a familiar scent, not quite old, yet still fading. “Chiyoh was here.”

“Was she?” Will shut the door and moved to stand next to him. “I’m surprised.”

“Loyalty and devotion drew her back to this place.”

“To you?”

“To Mischa.” It was so silent, like death had found its way here and made the castle his home. Memories echoed through every hall, down every step, and through every door. The laughter of a child, the smell of cigars, the tapping of chess pieces and turning of pages. He shook his head. “Let’s settle in.”

“Should we go shopping?”

“Chiyoh was here, she would have restocked everything.” He was attempting to hide himself from Will, to push him away so he wouldn’t have to feel the turmoil roiling in him. He had tainted him plenty, but this was something far different. There was a feral need to escape, to claw and bite and kill what threatened to expose him, but a house, though a living thing, had no blood to shed or bone to break. Will on the other hand did. “We can stay in my room.”

“I didn’t really look it over while I was here, too focused on other things.” Will answered. “I should have searched every corner, put myself in your shoes and lived a moment in your life.”

“There would have been little to live.”

“Your book says otherwise.”

“The book is only words.”

They moved away from the entrance, Will following him upstairs, staying close, trying to absorb his emotions and the more he did so, the more Hannibal closed himself off. He caught a frown, regret hitting him in the chest, but he couldn’t right now, not until he had time to think.

~

His room was like a strange sort of museum. Everything was as he had left it, but even here there was a lack of dust. He wondered if Chiyoh had known he would return. The bed was made, red and gold quilt covering the mattress, going well with the cream-colored walls of his youth. He remembered the choice for the color, how it was meant to be calming. He and Will both sat their luggage next to the large chest of drawers, tossed their jackets and gloves on top of it, and his husband moved to start a fire as he found his way over to the glass double doors that lead out to a snow-covered balcony. He could remember with clarity the last time he had stood there, the way he had closed his eyes and allowed the wind to whip through his hair. He always felt like he was flying.

“She likes to keep the castle warm, that’s why there’s wood even here.” He was pulled back by Will’s voice, and he turned.

“Who?”

“Chiyoh. There was always a fire burning. I wonder if it was for you.”

He watched Will for a moment, taking in how calm and content he seemed. “I doubt she would think to do something like that for me.”

“She loves and hates you Hannibal.”

“Like you?” The words were meant to be playful, teasing, but instead they came out tinged with irritation. They fell into silence, and Hannibal waited, watching as Will finally got a fire going.

“Oh yes,” he stood, turning from the fire and crossing over to him, “I hate you so much I moved with you to another country after nearly dying on a cliff.” He took his hand and pulled him. “I hate you so much, I married you.” He drew him close, eyes alight with understanding even as he reprimanded him. “I hate you more than anything Doctor Lecter. I really, really…”

“Enough.” He pressed their foreheads together. “Don’t say it again, forgive me.”

“I do, I always will.”

Hannibal laced their fingers, letting Will’s warmth seep into him. “We should light the others, heat the castle from top to bottom, keep the cold away.”

“If that’s what you need.”

“Very much so.” More than he could express, he needed to feel warm. “I can give you a real tour as we go.”

“I would like that very much.”

~

“This place is really something else.” Will said as they walked from room to room.

“It was a home, that’s all that matters.”

“Bad memories?”

“Shadows.” Of his anger and rage, of how exacting revenge had done nothing to ease his pain. He had fled from them like so many things. Will knew them all well, had read and experienced them, had been on the receiving end of that anger. It wasn’t a home, merely a house, he had not known what home was until Will.

“It’s okay to feel disconnected, like you don’t belong here.”

“I know. Perhaps I’m merely exhausted.”

“We should eat.”

“This may surprise you, but I don’t feel like food.”

“We had a long flight, a long drive.”

“I would rather sleep.”

Will sighed and nodded. “Okay.”

The tour of the house continued in partial silence; only broken by Will’s questions and Hannibal’s need to answer them. It was a tactic meant to distract, his eyes and words full of curiosity, his way of attempting to ease his emotional burden. He would let himself be overcome by sadness and anger until mental and physical exhaustion took him. Each room was an old memory, and whether good or bad, they carried with them a sting. Even so, he shared as much as he dared until every fireplace burned with warmth. They doubled back to the room, Hannibal forcing himself to keep an even pace as they climbed the stairs. It was a relief being back in his room, back to a place of semi-safety, and they began undressing. All he wanted was to climb into bed and attempt to rest. They climbed under the covers together, Hannibal wrapping his arms tightly around Will and pulling him close. He buried his nose in his hair, inhaling deeply of his scent, and holding it in his lungs. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was glad Will had resisted his attempts to get him to change his cologne. This familiar smell helped chase the shadows away.

~

He was helpless, a young boy of sixteen, unable to move as he watched the man in open mouth, silent horror. The scream stuck in his throat, locked there by absolute terror. Those eyes, once so full of bright honesty, stared at him with cold, indifferent lifelessness. The man turned, blood coating his face and hands and the knife he clutched, a manic almost fevered look in his eyes as he moved closer. Hannibal shook his head, heart and breath quick and panicked. The man reached for him, those bloody fingers snapping him out of his shock. He lunged, fingers around the man’s throat, squeezing even as he bore him down. He clenched his teeth, growling, forgetting the knife, forgetting everything but choking the life out of this creature. A hand grabbed at his wrist, the other pressing against his chest with much more strength than the man should have.

“Hann…ibal.” His name was choked out, a desperate plea for help, and the familiarity of it struck him. His eyes flew open, he blinked, finding himself looking down at Will. He opened his mouth to say something, to apologize, when Will swept both arms up and through his, breaking his hold and causing him to fall forward. Arms wrapped around his, squeezing him close. “Hannibal!” His voice came out in a whisper. “Wake up!”

“I’m…” he swallowed, “I’m awake.”

There was a sigh of relief breathed against his ear, and the minute he was released, he moved away, heart tripping uncontrollably in his chest at what he had nearly done. “Will, I…” Anything he thought of saying only sounded like an excuse to him. He wanted to reach out, to ask for his forgiveness, but he once again found himself unable to move.

Will sat up, moving onto his knees. He reached out, hands framing Hannibal’s face as he scooted closer. “Tell me.”

“I almost killed you.”

“You think I would let that happen?” Thumbs brushed along his cheeks. “Tell me.”

“It was him, the one who took Mischa from me. I didn’t see you, only him, only the blood and the knife.” He felt his throat tightening and took a deep, steadying breath. “Perhaps you should take another room.”

“I’m not going anywhere, love.”

“Will, I had my hands around your throat, I was fully intending to end your life. If I had woken up with you unmoving beneath me, I…”

“But you didn’t.” Will brushed their noses together. “I stopped you.”

“Will.” 

Lips touched his, light and warm, in a brief kiss. “There’s no reason to be afraid.”

“I am not.”

“You are, and ashamed.” Another kiss, equally as gentle. “You’re thinking you should have better control, you shouldn’t be affected by any of this, that you shouldn’t have brought me.”

“You see too much.”

“I see the perfect amount.” He pressed their foreheads together. “Were you afraid of my reaction?”

“Our relationship was built on blood and violence.”

“And is sustained by loyalty and trust.”

“Is that alone enough to keep you safe?” 

“Shall we find out, Doctor?”

~

Will’s fingers gripped the comforter, eyes locked on Hannibal’s, mirrors of reflected pleasure at every movement of their bodies. He held to his hips, driving slowly into him, pulling loud whimpering moans from his throat and a pleading from his eyes for more. A hand moved to his, drawing it up and over his scar, across his sternum and chest, to his throat. Hannibal hesitated, fingers twitching against already bruised flesh, as he fought his instincts. “Will.”

“It’s okay, I trust you.” There was no fear or hesitation, only an openness, a willingness to give up control. ‘Don’t run’. His eyes said. ‘Not from me.’

He flexed his fingers against his throat, testing him. His eyes widened, breath leaving his lungs in a surprised gasp. Will’s hand stayed over his, a reassurance. He tightened his grip, putting light pressure on the arteries there, just enough to give him a sense of lightheadedness. Something flashed in his eyes, a predatory glint of challenge and lust that called for him to quicken his pace, the harsh tempo causing Will to wrap his legs fully around Hannibal to keep from being pushed along the bed. “Hannibal.” The sound of his name from his husband’s mouth had him leaning forward, fingers sliding into his hair and pulling his head back. He exposed himself so easily, allowing Hannibal to sink his teeth into his throat. Will’s fingers clung to him, nails sliding down his back, leaving burning lines in their wake that had Hannibal letting out a loud huff of muffled pleasure as he spilled into him. 

~

Hannibal woke the next morning wrapped tightly around Will. He wondered if he had held him all night, if guilt, love, or both had kept him there. He pulled back a little, Will letting out a groan before settling back into sleep. His eyes fell on the bruises at his neck, on the teeth marks, and he let his fingers brush gently over them, the light touch waking Will. He smiled, “Good morning.”

“Are you okay?”

“Still tired.”

“Any pain?”

Will shook his head as he pressed their foreheads together. “Not the bad kind.” 

“And these?” His hand was at Will’s throat, stroking them with his thumb.

“Barely feel them. I wouldn’t notice if you weren’t touching them.”

“Forgive me mano meilé.”

“They’ll heal, Hannibal, they always do.” He chuckled. “But if you need to fuss, you could start by taking a bath with me and making me breakfast.”

“What would you like?”

“Surprise me.”

“Very well, mongoose, anything you wish.”

“Then we can walk the grounds.” He pulled back, sympathy filling his eyes. “You need to see her.”

“Is that a request?”

“A suggestion.”

“I’ll think about it.”

They bathed and cooked and ate together, they walked through the empty castle, Will simply staying with him, coaxing him, soaking up the sorrow and anger and hate without question until he was exhausted and ready to collapse. He was there through every nightmare, replacing the bitter taste of them with himself. Their journey to the cemetery was a slow one, Hannibal finding a strong feeling of anxiety settling into his heart as he walked with Will past headstone after headstone. Pain squeezed his chest, his breath catching in his throat when he finally saw her name, the only thing left of her, etched in stone. 

“Hey Mischa.” Will’s voice was gentle as he spoke to the long dead little girl. “Do you remember me?”

“She can’t hear you, Will.”

“It’s just what you do. Besides, how do you know?”

“I suppose I don’t.”

“I brought your brother. Can you believe how old he is? I bet if you were here, you would agree.”

“Not so old.” Will looked to him, eyes flicking to the headstone. “I have no idea what to say.”

“Whatever you want.” Will took his hand. “If she can’t hear you, then it’s just us and if she can, I’m sure she would be happy knowing you’re here and alive.”

Hannibal cleared his throat and looked back down at his sister’s name. “Hello, Mischa, it’s your brother.” He swallowed. “I remember the last time we were together, and I have kept you always with me. I am sure you found your way to some place brighter than here. I do love you, my dearest little sister, and I am sorry for not living up to your expectations.”

Will’s hand squeezed his and he found himself turning into his husband, hugging him tightly and dropping his forehead onto his shoulder. “Would you like to see him now?”

“No, knowing he is dead changes nothing, seeing him dead will only make me angry at myself for not having the resolve to do it before. I would rather he stayed where he is, alone forever even in death.”

“If that’s what you need.”

“It is.” Hannibal pressed a kiss to his neck before raising his head. “I find myself feeling relieved.”

“Then would you smile for me?”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“What if I said please?”

He felt his lips twitch. “Perhaps.”

“Hannibal, husband, would you please smile for me?” He planted a small kiss to his lips. “Please, love?”

He was unable to stop himself, too weak to Will’s pleading and pet names. He released a sigh. “You should watch yourself, mongoose, I am not myself here.” 

“You should know, Doctor, that your threats do not scare me.”

“They are promises.”

“Then I hope you’re ready to keep them.”

“Always.” They walked away from Mischa together, Hannibal anchoring himself to Will and to the present. He still was not at ease, but some of his worry had waned. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, my heart.”


End file.
